


The Rhythm of Love

by joplin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Minor Character Death, Musician!Cas, dancer!dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 11:39:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joplin/pseuds/joplin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is an extremely talented dancer preparing for his big, solo routine at the upcoming recital. An emergency change of accompanist causes Dean to meet Castiel Milton, the quiet boy he's seen around school. After an outstanding recital, the boys quickly become friends, then quickly become something more. But, little do Dean and Cas know, their song has only just begun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

Dean Winchester was the kind of guy who knew what he wanted. Not only that, but he knew how to get it. He was clever, charming, and good at the things he cared about being good at. Mostly, those things consisted of dancing. He could play some guitar on the side, sure, but dance was what really mattered. He was strong, he was sure, and his instructors had always told him he had "a natural gift." Dean Winchester was a first-rate dancer, so when people jeered, “Hey, _ballerina_ ,” he just smirked and said, “Whatever. Hot chicks.” Soon enough, they gave it up. Dean was Dean, and Dean was liked.

 

 

Castiel Milton was, in nearly every way, Dean Winchester’s polar opposite. Publicly, he was, well, he wasn’t much of anything. He kept his nose clean and his eyes down. He didn’t really talk to girls, and they didn’t really talk to him— not that he cared, anyway. He was a brilliant musician with a knack for painting, but he didn’t take so well to people. Not that people couldn’t take to him— he had a strong, peaceful presence, and when someone was lucky enough to hear him play piano, it was almost like God himself had smiled upon them. Cas communicated through instruments and canvases, and that was fine by everyone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to, follow the in-text link when you get there! I think it will add to the story.
> 
> ALSO, thank you SO much for all the positive response this has already gotten! I'm glad you're enjoying it!

It was a rainy Tuesday evening, and Dean was exhausted from rehearsal. He slung his bag over his shoulder, and left the room with its old wooden floors and enough mirrors to perpetuate 600 years of bad luck. He ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath as he stepped into the cool, autumn air.

The love of Dean’s life was waiting for him in the parking lot. He couldn’t help but smile at the fact that he was lucky enough to have his baby waiting there for him. The ’67 Impala may have been old, but it was sleek, black, and beautiful as the day it had rolled out of the factory. It purred like an overgrown kitten, and it took Dean where he needed taking, which was more than fine by him. And anyway, driving home from class was honestly one of Dean’s favorite rituals. It was 35 minutes of chilling out— nothing but ACDC, Bon Jovi, Survivor (sometimes Air Supply, but Dean would never admit it), wind in his hair, and that awesome my-muscles-hurt-but-in-the-good-way feeling. Of course, that tranquility always ended as soon as he pulled up to Bobby’s house.

Bobby Singer was the “better than blood” uncle and near full time caretaker of Dean and his kid brother, Sammy. Bobby used to be business partners with Dean’s dad, John, before John left the shop and became a trucker. There had been a bit of a falling out or something, but since John had had two young kids, Bobby offered to help out. While the man was gruff, he was plenty lovable; in fact, it was Bobby who got Dean dancing in the first place, but that was another story.

“DeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!” was the harsh but welcome first thing to greet the boy’s ears when he walked in that Tuesday.

“Jesus, Sammy, what?” he yawned, setting his bag down. “So get this!” Sammy began to rattle out at 95 miles per hour, “We started talking about scheduling for next semester’s classes today, Dean!”

“Christ, in September? School’s been in three weeks.”

“Yeah, I know, right? But anyway…” Sammy continued as he followed Dean to the room they shared. “Anyway, I was wondering if you had any advice?” Sammy looked up at Dean with such admiration. He was always doing that. Dean couldn’t understand what the kid saw in him, but he still thought it was sweet. “I am the _last_ person you ought to be taking advice from, Sammy,” Dean laughed. Sammy crossed his arms. “So? I still value your opinion.”

Dean sighed. “Fine, hot shot, lemme think… okay, here’s the deal. You’re gonna want to take home ec, because that’s where all the girls are. Just don’t steal ‘em from me,” he added with a wink.

“Dean!” Sam whined.

“Hey, you asked, and I’m answering! So, shut it.” He paused. “Oh, and for the love of God, never, and I mean _never_ take econ with Mr. Roman.”

“Why?” Sam asked.

“Biggest dick you’ll ever meet in your life,” Dean answered, shaking his head.

“…Noted,” Sam said as they heard the back door slam open and shut.

“Boys, you here?” a voice shouted into the house.

“Hey, Ellen!” Sam and Dean called back together. Ellen lived just down the road, next door to the pub and diner she owned and ran with her daughter, Jo, who worked there part time. Jo was Dean’s age, and arguably his best friend. Tiny and blonde, but not to be screwed with, she was a perfect, eighteen-year old replica of her mother.

Ellen walked into the kitchen, followed by Jo. “Bobby here?” she asked.

“He’s out in the shop, I think,” Dean offered. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much,” she answered, “just the daily report.” Sometimes, Bobby and Ellen were almost a thing, and, sometimes, they almost weren’t. It didn’t really matter though— the five of them were family, and that was that.

“Well, speak of the devil…” Dean said, nodding towards the window. A moment later, the door opened and shut again to reveal Bobby, who was sporting his favorite green ball cap and a perfume of motor oil.

“Ladies,” he smiled upon seeing Ellen and Jo. “Boys,” he added to Sam and Dean.

“I believe the term is ‘gentlemen,’ Bobby,” Dean said in mock-offense. Bobby chuckled once to himself before answering, “A gentlemen wouldn’t leave his sweat in my kitchen. How times I got to tell you not to leave that duffle of yours on my counter?”

Dean glanced at the kitchen counter, where, sure enough, he had left his dance bag. He bit his lip, muttered a “Right, sorry,” and took it away to his and Sammy’s room.

“Crazy kids,” Bobby muttered to Sam, who pretended to nod sympathetically while Jo and Ellen laughed.

Dean returned quickly, ruffling his hair drowsily. “Speaking of crazy kids,” Ellen turned to ask Sammy, “how you liking high school, huh?” She was all smiles and sincerity— a natural mother figure. At this cue, Sam grinned broadly.

“It’s great, so far! I mean, all of my classes are pretty all right, and the math team starts meeting tomorrow after school, which I’m really looking forward to.” This time, Dean ruffled Sam’s hair.

“ _Aww,_ ” Dean smiled with over the top, gooey affection.

“Dean!” Sam batted at his brother’s arm. “Dean, _geroffme!”_

“You feisty little mathlete, you,” Dean chuckled. He then looked up to address the room. “I think I’m gonna hit the hay early tonight. I have to go in to the studio before school tomorrow.” After a round of ‘good night’s, Dean left the others to talk amongst themselves. As he walked down the hallway, he couldn’t help but think about how good it would feel to lie down and how great he would feel in the morning.

Dean Winchester took a shower and brushed his teeth.

Dean Winchester went to bed and fell asleep almost the second his head hit the pillow.

Dean Winchester had no idea that when he woke up, he would greet the day that would change everything.

 ---

The next morning, Dean was up before the sun. By 5:30, he was at the studio and warming up. He rarely complained about these early mornings, even to himself, because he couldn’t really think of a way he’d rather start the day anyway. The only real downside was that Sammy had to take the school bus on Wednesdays and Fridays, but he hardly ever complained either. He was a sweet kid like that.

The school day passed without much incident until fifth period, which, for Dean, was advanced computer science. He took his seat next to his friend Charlie—a bubbly, energetic girl with bright red hair to match; a moment later, his friend Ash—who had frankly concerning energy levels and a mullet to match— slumped down into the seat on his other side.

“Surviving the day, Ash?” Charlie asked, leaning around Dean.

“Barely,” Ash mumbled from where his lay in his arms.

“He probably hasn’t had his third Monster yet today,” Dean sighed, shaking his head.

“You know me so well, Dean-o,” Ash groaned. “Too well.”  He looked up, blinking. “Neither one of you has any caffeine, though, huh?”

“Sorry, dude,” Charlie and Dean answered in unison.

At that moment, Mr. Fitzgerald came in and announced that they would be having a free work day. Dean, Ash, and Charlie, along with a majority of the class, all got up and went to their computer stations. Dean was no slouch at comp sci—he had a fairly technical mind—but he had nothing on either Ash or Charlie. The things they could do just instinctively were incredible, and sometimes Dean just liked to watch them work.

“So,” Charlie eventually spoke up over the clattering of keyboards, “what are you guys up to next period?”

“Whatever you are, I guess,” Ash shrugged, still typing away at his codes.

Their school’s scheduling system allowed for one free period out of seven, and Dean, Jo, Charlie, and Ash had all set themselves up to have sixth period off together. At least for this term, anyway.

“What about you, Winchester?” Charlie asked.

“Actually, I’m thinking about practicing for a little bit. Just go through it once or twice, you know? Since it’s getting to be that time.”

“Oh, yeah!” Charlie piped up. “That recital really is coming up quickly. Next weekend, right?” Dean nodded. “Well,” Charlie beamed proudly, “I’m really excited to see it.”

Dean looked down, scratching the back of his neck. His friends really were all proud of him, and he knew that. Still, compliments got to him. “Thanks, Charlie.”

Soon enough, the bell rang, and Dean went upstairs to his locker. He took his time with the trip and took his time trading putting away textbooks. It wasn’t like he really had anywhere to be. Soon enough, though, he made his way back downstairs and across the building to the music hallway. Dean liked to practice in the choir room, because it had an entire wall of mirrors and was only otherwise used until fourth period.

Well, usually.

When Dean opened the door, he heard [music](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QfQwT3Dr-r8). It was faint, but it was definitely there.

It was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever heard.

He followed the sound over to the costume room and opened the door. As he had expected, the door across the room was open, but only just. The door went directly to the backstage area of the auditorium. It had been designed that way so that the choir room could serve as an efficient green room during performances.

Dean crossed the little room slowly, quietly, the music growing louder and clearer with each step. He carefully nudged the door open just enough to see out onto the dimly lit stage. The house lights were all off, but one strip of stage lights shone down on the grand piano currently sitting off to stage right. That is to say, shining down on the piano and the dark-haired boy who was playing it.

The boy’s back was turned, but Dean recognized him as Castiel . . . something. They were in the same grade. Dean couldn’t place Castiel’s last name, but then again, he hadn’t known the boy could play piano, either. Or had he?

_Yeah,_ Dean thought, _you’ve heard people talk about it._

Still, it was haunting how natural he looked there next to the keys, and it was several seconds later that Dean realized he was literally creeping on this kid. Come on, though. Castiel was letting all this beautiful music pour out into a very open, very public room. It wasn’t Dean’s fault they had both chosen this place to come practice.

Should he say something? Castiel deserved to be told how talented he was—not that he didn’t probably know already—but Dean decided that would just make this whole accident even weirder. Then again, Castiel would have to leave the auditorium eventually, and Dean would most likely be around when he did.

That would work.

Dean doubled back into the choir room, leaving the doors as he had found them. He hated to shut the one; the music was gorgeous, but he needed to be able to focus on the music in his head.

Several minutes later, Dean was fully lost in his routine. He had marked through it a couple of times, taken a small break, and was back on his feet. He had just come out of a turn when he heard the costume shop door open. No time for distractions, though. Dean finished the eight count set before stopping and turning his to attention to the doorway.

Castiel stood thoughtfully, his head just barely cocked to one side.

“I heard you playing,” Dean smiled, gesturing in the direction of the stage with his thumb. “It was really incredible.”

“Thank you,” Castiel replied with a small smile. “So was that,” he added, nodding in Dean’s general direction. 

“Thanks,” Dean responded in kind, offering up a similar smile. He fought the urge to look down, though. He almost always did that when people complimented him, and it was a habit he needed to break.

Castiel glanced up to the clock on the back wall. Ten minutes until the end of the period. “Well,” Castiel said, looking down himself, “um, see you around.”

“Yeah. Yeah, see you around.” Dean offered a final, small wave before Castiel crossed the room and exited into the hallway.

Dean paid no real mind to this encounter, instantly turning his attention back to his routine, right where he had left off.


End file.
